The Ties That Bind

sign. In her present mood she didn't really care what she signed. She picked up her pen and was about to start her signature on the bottom line when she heard the Porsche in the drive.
    For an instant panic assailed her. She glanced quickly around the cottage as if seeking a hiding place. The forceful knock on the door brought her to her feet.
    "Damn you, Garth Sheridan," she muttered under her breath. "This is my home and I'm on my territory. I'm not going to let you terrorize me here." Angrily she walked across the room and flung open the door.
    "Well?" she demanded as he stood looking down at her with brooding eyes. "Have you come to arrest me?"
    "Not exactly. Invite me in, Shannon. I've come to ask you to marry me."

-7-
    SHANNON WAS so NONPLUSSED that she could only stand and stare at the man on her threshold. It took a supreme effort of will to gather her senses. "If this is your idea of a joke, Garth, it borders on sick."
    "You know me better than that, Shannon. I rarely make jokes, sick or otherwise. I do, however, occasionally make mistakes. Please let me inside."
    "Mistakes?" she demanded sharply. In spite of her intentions, something about the expression in his eyes made her stand aside. "Garth, what are you talking about? Why have you driven all this way? Don't you have to be back in your precious Sherilectronics office bright and early tomorrow morning?"
    He moved past her, planting himself solidly in the room. Slowly he turned to face Shannon, his eyes gentling. "Close the door, honey. We have to talk."
    "I don't think I want to hear what you have to say, Garth." Reluctantly she closed the door and stood waiting, one hand still on the knob as if she were contemplating a mad dash to freedom. The notion irritated her. This was her house, Shannon reminded herself. She wasn't about to let Garth Sheridan drive her from it.
    "I know you're upset, Shannon. You shouldn't have panicked and run Sunday morning. You never gave me a chance to explain."
    "What was there to explain?" she challenged hotly. "You found all the evidence you needed to try and convict me. You can't blame me if I didn't hang around for the sentencing. Any self-respecting prisoner would run if she got the chance. Did you expect me to sit humbly on your living room sofa while you delivered judgment?"
    "Calm down, Shannon." He walked into her kitchen and opened a cupboard door. The bottle of whiskey he had left with her was still inside. Garth poured himself a glass, his face set in hard, weary lines. "It's obvious you're still on edge. You shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel of a car Sunday morning feeling as upset as you did. It's not safe to drive when your mood is unstable."
    "I can't believe this! You're standing there in my kitchen giving me safety lectures? At a time like this?"
    His mouth twisted in a wry grimace as he leaned back against the counter and took a sip of the whiskey. "Force of habit. Or maybe I'm trying to figure out how to get back to the main subject."
    "What is the main subject?"
    "I told you. Marriage." His eyes met hers with steady intent.
    She shook her head in incomprehension. "I don't understand what you're talking about, Garth."
    "Sit down," he said gently. "I'll explain it to you." He came toward her, put a hand on her arm and led her back out into the living room. Very carefully he seated her on the sofa and then he took the comfortable over-stuffed chair near the fireplace. "Relax, Shannon. Please. God knows I'm tense enough for both of us."
    "Then you shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel of a car and driven a couple of hundred miles."
    He raised his eyebrows. "That was childish."
    "I know," she agreed sadly.
    "I drove two hundred miles because I had to talk you. You didn't hang around Sunday morning long enough to discuss the matter, and Sunday night you hung up on me. I got the impression you'd do it again if I called."
    "Probably. I have no desire to talk to a man who thinks I'm a corporate spy."
    "I don't think you're a corporate spy, Shannon."
    She stared at him. "That's not the impression I got Sunday morning."
    "Sunday morning I had a lot of thinking to do." Garth looked down into his whiskey. "It was a shock."
    "Finding that damn proposal in my tote? Yes," she said bitterly, "I imagine it was. It was a shock to me, too. But I don't expect you to believe that."
    "I believe it."
    Shannon's head came around with a snap, her eyes troubled and wary. "You do?"
    "I don't believe you stole that proposal,